


Ich Bau Ne Stadt Für Dich

by Laeiphy



Series: A Swiftly Tilting Planet [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aggressive Chair Penetration, F/M, I can't believe I just wrote that tag, Is it revenge sex if one person doesn't like the other and both are crushing on the same girl?, Light Bondage, Porn With Plot, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge Sex, Unstable Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 08:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11710635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeiphy/pseuds/Laeiphy
Summary: For two weeks and counting, Angela Ziegler has been narrowly avoiding Jack since the events of the UN's New Years Eve party. She has carefully adapted her patterns and her routines and her frozen face around keeping the commander of Overwatch turning the corner as the last hint of her white coat disappears around a corner. She was not ready to actually talk to Jack, his words lying heavy in her mind.But she might not have a choice in the matter.





	Ich Bau Ne Stadt Für Dich

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of [A Swiftly Tilting Planet](http://archiveofourown.org/series/772935). Reading [What If This Storm Ends](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9934403) is not required, but certain comments and events may make more sense if one reads it first.

“Doctor Ziegler!” Jack’s voice smiled from the doorway, boyish as usual, and Angela squinted her eyes and tried to calm her suddenly wildly beating heart.

_No..._

For two weeks and counting, Angela had been narrowly avoiding Jack. She had carefully adapted her patterns and her routines and her frozen face around keeping the commander of Overwatch turning the corner as the last hint of her white coat had disappeared around a corner.

It had worked _surprisingly_ well, seeing that Jack was of opposite opinion and had been obviously seeking her out, his brow furrowing at every carefully crafted, missed encounter. But the newly-solo commander of Overwatch was a busy man, and Angela capitalized on this fact heavily as he was distracted from her path again and again.

Angela was not ready to actually talk to Jack, his words lying heavy in her mind, discussions on what happened in a distant back room of the ill-fated UN’s party, as he had promised her it would come back again. It wasn’t just avoidance, it was a hint of something else in the back of her mind that screamed that something was wrong.

Her mind, at night, had replayed the scenes over and over again in some grim and abusive parody of a sports replay. Gabriel’s pained groaning, drunk and hurt. Lena’s huddled body in a hospital chair, holding her legs for small comfort. Winston carefully holding the injured Gabriel in two furry hands. Her mind, drunk auroras, going over and over the strangled sounds as she tried to hide from everything Jack brought to what should have been a time of joy.

Jack brushing her cheek, his touch like numb fire, promising that he’d explain, in person, staring and stripping her down to her very soul and mind. His eyes, wide and young as if to wipe away the violence that had seeped into the room and erase it with another fallen promise from the Commander’s lips.

And here it was, finally coming to head. And she could not run away in front of all of the interns, all of her nurses, assistants, doctors, surgeons, anesthesiologists, all of the people with their eyes on Angela, the pride of Overwatch’s medical and research unit and the Strike Commander himself. She could only feel her heart beating, it felt like it would fly out of her chest entirely, while the rest of her was numb and rigid in her shoes.

A dull rushing sound as he _smiled_ at her like nothing was wrong. “I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?” Jack said, his blue jacket coming to a swirling stop around his legs.

“Commander Morrison,” she said, careful to not break the pencil she was holding, but certainly turning the tips of her fingers white with the pressure. It wasn’t enough for her to avoid him, it was more invasive than even she imagined to have him standing her in her space, in her only refuge among the suddenly... malevolent chaos that Overwatch’s HQ had suddenly become in between the UN’s party and now.

“My apologizes, Commander, but I am conducting some very delicate experiments that require my presence.” Angela said, her white lab coat tinted blue under the bright reflection of Jack’s duster. His smile dropped; not by any measurable quantity, but enough for her to tell that his mind had shifted, and his eyes crinkled into well-hidden suspicion.

He searched her eyes for a moment, blue locked to blue. Angela prayed to whichever deity who was among them that not a hint of the lie seeped through.

“Ahh, Angela--” Morrison started to open his mouth.

A lab technician, starstruck by the presence of the Strike-Commander of Overwatch itself, awkwardly interrupted Morrison’s sentence.

“Doctor Ziegler, we are capable to watch your station! There’s no need to make the Strike-Commander wait!” he beamed, the tech’s lanky figure and glasses flashing in the light. Jack turned his brightest smile on the technician. Angela felt like crumpling, her breath leaving in jerky slow motion.

“That would be wonderful! I wouldn’t pry her out of your dungeon for very long.” Jack joked at her, slight worry creasing his face without a hint of guile or deceit.

“I suppose it could be delayed for a moment,” Angela said, faintly as her blood rushed into her ears. She knew there was no medically likely reason for her response, it was likely psychological, but couldn’t help but compare the feeling to fainting on the spot.

“Come, Angela.” Jack said, friendly and holding out his hand towards her like a child about to be lead by the hand after being naughty.

Angela hung between the very American saying of “stuck between a rock and a hard place” and avoided her first response to stutter and come up with an excuse to avoid the command. But with the multiple lab technicians surrounding her and the Strike-Commander, it was impossible for her to disagree without bringing up more gossip that Overwatch didn’t need right now. The news reports, the tabloids stalking outside the gates didn’t need more internal or external fodder.

Dare she say, Overwatch’s external missions and the resulting innocent civilian casualties had already increased the already hostile climate toward a global peacekeeping force after the Crisis.

Their public image already suffered enough without the head of medical quite openly rejecting the Strike-Commander’s invitation. The gossip of Overwatch would reach much further than just one cafeteria, not just ordinary whispers and murmurs at the current time.

“It would be my pleasure, Commander.” Angela forced a smile, and let Jack’s hand sweep to the small of her back bravely without flinching.

Jack’s hand directed her gently toward and out the door of her laboratory. The door sliding shut with an antiseptic sound made Angela curse the nameless face who pulled her into this position. She’d do something very uncharacteristically nasty, set him up with the dreaded clinic overnight shift for the next few months.

During the entire walk, Jack kept up a stream of mindless chatter that Angela could barely kept track of. The only thing she could feel was Jack’s hand still pressed right on the base of her spine, acting as a binding rope as they walked side by side down the halls of Overwatch, wide windows letting daylight wash over white walls and spotless white floors.

It wasn’t enough to be unprepared for this conversation, Angela thought in the back of her head, it was the sheer avoidance of anyone speaking about what happened on New Year’s Eve that caused Angela the most pain. Humans weren’t meant to let emotions simmer alone, and certainly not in high-stress, high-intensity work like what they all were addicted to.

She wasn’t ready to speak, Reyes sure wasn’t. She’d spotted the man lurking darkly in the shadows of Overwatch since that night. He had been looming around the halls the last few weeks and, according to Ana Amari, avoiding any sort of official duty that required him to be in Jack’s presence. From the way Ana grumbled half-heartedly at her at lunch, she didn’t believe it to be more than one of the few minor spats Reyes and Morrison got into every other month or so.

Nothing more than a minor note in the endless obligations of Overwatch’s de-facto third in command, filed away under “to be addressed” after the removal of some upstart terrorist group and relief efforts in the Caribbean following another hurricane. It was a relatively calm month for watching the world, by Overwatch standards. Ana had likely decided to forgo the conversation until necessity demanded her to respond to the Commanders’ “spat.”

But now they’d arrived, and Angela stood at the dark door of Jack’s private office and part of her, primally back in the hidden corner of her head, screamed she could still run. She could still avoid this conversation, and could still stick her head in the sand and avoid it for a few more short, sweet weeks. Jack would get busy again, it whispered temptingly. Reyes would forget with time, and with more booze. It could be done, it whispered.

Jack pushed the door open, and Angela followed his duster inside.

The office was, as everything in Overwatch proper, terrifyingly modern. His tablet sat docked on a sleek, darkened glass desk and displays hovered up and down with various plans and maps projected upwards and beeping softly. There wasn’t much of a personal touch in the office, just a few pictures of Jack, Amari, and Reyes in different serious poses. He sat down heavily in his chair, pulling his duster off and casually tossing it out of the way on another side table.

Angela sat down on the chair across from the desk, the feel of being brought to the headmaster’s office after misbehaving at school enough to jar her from her thoughts. Jack smiled from across the glass desk, his face much more soft than it was in the lab.

“I’ve missed talking to you, Angela,” he started, bringing his hands to brace on the desk. “I just got so busy… and we left so many things unsaid. I don’t want to leave things to fester.” he continued, blue eyes searching deep already into her mind.

Angela sighed, weighing out the cons of refusing to speak to Jack.

“I had a lot of… different things on my mind. I needed time to think them over.” she said, leaning back into the chair fully. Morrison nodded.

“I don’t want rifts between us. After all, you are the one who decided who lives and who dies on the field.” Jack said.

Angela shook her head, uncomfortable.

“No, never anything like that. I heal, I am not Charon, boating the dead across the River Styx.” Angela said. “I do my best, as do we all.”

Jack laughed. “If only your optimism carried to everyone in Overwatch.” he said, leaning back in the chair and grumbling good-naturally.

Then he pulled up, serious expression on his face, leaning forward.

“Angela, I am worried for Reyes. He has not been acting like himself. He’s been drunk, more times than I can count and at official Overwatch events as well. I… I sometimes feel like something is distracting him from his duties.”

“I have noticed him more distant,” Angela admitted carefully, not making eye contact with Jack. “But not before… not before New Year’s.”

Jack smiled, humorlessly. It was not a pretty boy smile, this time. “Angela, I must apologize to you for his display that night. It wasn’t right of him to subject you to conversations that would better be private.”

_He should be apologizing to Gabriel,_ Angela thought numbly, as Morrison spoke on. Not me, not over flat out.. well... _abuse_ against his second in command. His friend, Angela once thought at one point, now something less and something definitely with more fire in between. There was disagreements, yes, but that was something much more brutal, something more calculated.

“Jack--” Angela’s voice caught in her chest. “You can’t just apologize for what happened. That’s… whatever happened, whatever explanation you have, that was _wrong_ , Jack. I love you both, but I can’t… we can’t just go forward like nothing has gone wrong.”

She knew she wasn’t speaking perfect English, but the concepts still came through correctly. Jack’s face hardened.

“You’re defending insubordination, Doctor.” Jack’s voice held an edge Angela couldn’t quite place.

“I am not defending-- that is assault, Jack. There’s no other word for it!” Angela said, her eyebrows frustratingly mashed together, voice rising. _Was something the matter?_

Morrison jerked up and out of his chair, feet firmly on the floor and leaning over his desk toward where Angela sat, her eyes wide at his movement toward her. It was less of a dignified walk, and more of the uneven gait of a madman stumbling around the dirty sidewalks, ranting and raving about the world ending and the Omnics rising up again, clutching a broken bottle of booze

Something was the matter. Something very much dangerous was in the air, and Angela was at a loss and without the muffling of alcohol, it was startling real. Jack clearly was not thinking with his right mind, and she should have seen it. She should have noticed that--

Jack needed to be off of active duty _yesterday_.

“Doctor, think very carefully on what you say next.” his eyes sparked, darkly burning, simmering down below. Angela’s breath caught at the sight. It was terrifying to even see, let alone have it directed at her. His blue eyes tore into her, frozen on her office chair, wishing to be anywhere else but where she was.

“You’re fucking Reyes, aren’t you?” Jack whispered the question, walking around the desk towards her in a slow, methodological movement, keeping his icy eyes on her the whole time.

The accusation hung in the air like a frozen gasp, and Angela felt like she was suffocating. Her breath whooshed out as Jack rounded the desk, looming over her. His face was no longer fire, but had melted into something almost concerned, tender. Forgiving.

“Angela…” he gasped, and Angela realized he took her silence as a confirmation.

“No! No, no, Jack, nothing like that!” Angela looked up at Jack, straightening up, who bent down to rest on his knees in front of her chair. He still easily passed her height, while she sat down and looked up with wide eyes.

“This is not why I am angry at you!” Angela snapped, frustrated.

She didn’t expect this in the slightest, but she supposed for Jack... it made the most sense. Reyes hadn’t start talking to Jack again after Angela and Winston carried him off, and Angela had avoided him like a guilty schoolgirl.

“I don’t.. never with my superiors or my patients both, Jack. I swear this.”

Jack reached out and touched the side of her face, quieting her with the unexpectedly fond touch. “You don’t have to lie to me, Angela. But I wished you wouldn’t. That would make this easier, for me and you both.”

Angela frowned, suddenly very worried at the implications. Was… Jack wasn’t trying to imply she was having sex with Gabriel, was he? That would be in violation of so many internal officer rules and UN sanctioned laws about interpersonal relationships that it would likely cost Angela her position as head of research.

“Angela… I need to know. There’s no reason to lie to me.”

Then a cold chill chased its way down her back. Could Morrison be trying to get her out of the way? He was the one who had recruited her to Overwatch itself, and the thought that her friend had suddenly demons to slay had rested in the back of her head for weeks now.

From what she witnessed that fateful night, Jack must have known it was wrong. Else, why get her to admit to a relationship with Reyes, give any judge and jury a reason for her to lie, for her to back up any testimony Reyes could bring to the table.

She searched her mind, frantically trying to come up with the last time she saw the brown-haired pilot at the cafeteria, or in the halls. Or a gigantic ape from the moon in a lab coat. And with growing horror, she hoped she wasn’t piecing together a terrible plan the blue-eyed man had shown her.

“Never, Jack. Never.” she said as strongly as she could, his hand still stroking her cheek, as convincingly truthful as any preacher at the lectern.

“Good.” Jack said, nodding his head at her, his hand leaving her cheek cold as it departed with a faint brush. “This makes things much easier.”  

His face came close to Angela’s, and it took her a moment to catch on to the pressure of his lips kissing hers and his hands coming along to catch her in his grip and hold her steady for him to take.

She gasped, opening her lips in unconscious surprise, and Jack took it as an invitation to dive in further, his tongue rushing and overwhelming any other sensation she could feel. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe.

Angela bit down on his lip.

Jack jerked his head back from hers, gasping for air as a trail of blood thinly winded its way down a split lip. He rubbed it off, laughing in surprise. Angela just stared at him, his blood tangy and copper in her mouth, and she spat it to the side.

“That was cute of you.” he said roughly, and dove in again, this time holding her face steady and using his body to push her further back down into the office chair. Angela fought the kiss, using her hands at first, before they were caught by Jack.

“No, Angela, none of that now.” he said after breaking the kiss, holding her wrists up in a soft grip, but unyielding enough to prevent her squirming from escaping.

“Jack, no! No, stop this. I don’t want this!” Angela gasped, her lips already flushed and red. Jack just laughed, something hollow.

“I’ve waited months, Angela. I can’t be waiting longer.” he said, and Angela tugged at her wrists more desperately in an effort to escape. She couldn’t get her hands to move from Jack’s grip, and he effortlessly moved her clasped hands to just his left hand, leaving the other to roam freely along her body.

Jack’s hand roughly slid past her open labcoat, pushing it up her shoulders, going for the grey turtleneck underneath. He roughly pulled it up to rest around her neck, where it bunched up and exposed her stomach to the chilly office air.

Angela blushed furiously, an older plain bra meeting the daylight as Jack’s erection suddenly came into play, pressing long and hard against her leg as he practically straddled the office chair to keep her in place. Angela tried to move her knee up to get a good strike at it, but Jack was quicker than her.

“If you fight-- or scream,” Jack said lowly, jerking her wrists up higher and making her wince. “ _Everyone_ will know what a whore Angela Ziegler is for fucking both of her Commanders.” he snarled at her, and Angela could only stare at those blue eyes that once promised her safety in detached disbelief. His smell invaded her nose, something musky and spicy that she’d never noticed before.

It would have smelled nice in any other way, sitting beside him in a mission briefing, or on a transport flight to some third-world country hyped up on adrenaline. But not now, not manhandled and half-naked in an office chair. And Jack carefully, so carefully as if she was a doll he could break with one short squeeze, brought his hand around her hip and slowly slid it down, effortlessly pulling down her plain panties and dark slacks in one slow move. Angela felt the slight burn as the chair’s plastic rubbed against her upper legs. His eyes followed down, choosing to ignore Angela’s fight to admire what he had found in the chair.

Angela’s skin was starting to heat up under Jack’s touch, her body unconsciously deciding that what Jack was doing was both wanted and desired, quite much more than her still numb mind wanted. His hand holding her arms above didn’t let go, but certainly moved to be less dangerous and more possessive, closer, as Angela stopped squirming around, numbness and the less-familiar feeling of _arousal_ that she had never devoted much time to her entire life. There was always a distraction, a book, a test, a research project to keep an eye on.

Jack’s wandering hand was steady, firm as it moved downwards. It hesitated for a moment, and Angela held her breath, fire suddenly roaring around her body. His eyes suddenly met hers, desperate to convince her that what he was doing was wanted, bleeding into baby-blue eyes and down the body of a Commander just _taking_ what he wanted.

His finger slid in slowly between her plain panties and Angela surprised herself by letting out a low noise that sounded suspiciously like a groan. Jack’s finger edged around her mound before slowly slipping it inside her pussy, starting a slow and careful caress of Angela’s insides, finger finding a tight fit and warmth pulsing around in time with her breath.

“Better than Reyes, Angie?” Jack panted into her neck, restraint showing in the bead of sweat sliding down his sandy head as he nibbled little lovebites across Angela’s neck. He slid in another finger slowly, building the slow beat higher and higher inside of her.

Angela couldn’t speak, the feeling of having just one finger inside… now two. A fellow doctor, the largest member she’d ever seen, and a wild night during her residency couldn’t begin compare to this. She knew Jack’s body had been enhanced, but this was an unreal, brightly shiny, unintended consequence of the entire so-called “super solider” program.

Jack’s body pressed harder against her as he used his fingers in Angela, and she threw her head back, panting and Jack finally moved closer to something that felt good, his finger burning inside like smooth marble.

“You taste like apples, Angela.” Jack crooned. “What a pretty little cunt, opening right up for me.” His arousal was noticeable, straining against his pants in something massive, larger than plenty of men she’d examined, and he pulled out his finger at the moment when Angela had started to _feel_ something down there.

Angela let out a low keen at the missing touch, and her hips unconsciously followed upwards. “Yes, Angie, I feel it too..” Jack groaned out, his member fighting to emerge from his trousers and into the office air.

Jack finally released her hands with a choked up cry and fumbled at his belt before his straining erection met the office air.

Angela panted hard, feeling even more violated without Jack’s fingers rubbing up inside of her. Her hands were finally free, but the press of Jack’s body only served to only moving Angela forward to grip the sides of her chair. Jack surged forward, member out and wet with pre-cum. His hands forced her legs to part, throwing her unshaved mound into the daylight through his exposed office window. It was somehow better when it was hidden, touched only by Jack’s exploring fingers.

Before Jack’s dick met her lower lips, Angela reached out and grabbed his shoulders with a weak grasp, and Jack stopped his advance for only a second to smile at her, need evident in his eyes and sweat starting to form around his temple.

“Jack--” Angela gasped, panting, suddenly clear-headed for a moment. “No, no… Jack...”

Jack hushed her with one hand, carefully holding her mouth shut in a parody of loving and restraint. “Just feel us, together, Angie…”

The other hand guided his dick, and in one smooth move, he slid inside her. Angela screamed, choking it back as Jack threw his head back in his own parody of her cry.

Overpowering was the first word as Jack began to thrust. He was larger than any partner she’d ever had before. Each beating heart set a frantic pace as Jack moved on top of her, his rough Commander’s jacket caressing over Angela’s naked stomach. Angela could only gasp behind his hand, trying and failing to take deep breaths, to take her anywhere else than the painful pace that Jack seemed determine to keep.

He started to thrust harder and more carefully after she let out a gasp of pain, her small walls straining and protesting against something so large inside of her, throbbing and stiffly pushing again and again. Jack’s sweat dripped down, half-naked, and Angela could only rise up to seek her own pleasure as the pain started to fade away. It was enjoyable in a violating, terrible, uncomfortably painful way.

It was the only thing she could think of: ignore the pain, focus on not who was doing this to her, focus on the pleasure slowly building as Jack manipulated his dick around her sensitive clit, and it brought up stabs of uncompared want and gratification all in a single thrust. Only for it to happen again and again, trapping her inside of Jack and Jack inside of her all at once, her walls pushing and beating, cramping and relaxing after each exhale.

And still it went on, pounding into her pussy, shaking and pushing her down into the office chair as Jack rode inside of her, like she was his, and used, and Angela felt strangled by her own forgotten sweater.

She felt Jack stiffen up-- the only warning sign before he finished --a few seconds before pulses of cum suddenly swelled inside of her. She gasped, the feeling of incredible fullness as she felt her own release suddenly pass over the edge, and she screamed under Jack’s sweaty hand tight and taunt, tasting sweat and Jack himself mixing together.

He pulled out, letting the rest of his cum dribble down and mix around her legs and the chair she’d been held prisoner in. It dripped down, slowly, even after Jack pulled back out his member with a small, weak cry.

They both panted for a moment, Jack slowly removed his hand from her mouth, and a bit of drool stuck to it and slowly dripped to the ground from Angela’s mouth. She wiped it in disgust while looking down at the post-orgasm mess around her. She had been covered in fluids of all types before, doctors didn’t get to be doctors without a thorough acquaintance with the human body.

But yet it disgusted her all the same, white sliding out of a used hole and dripping downward. She felt detached from the whole thing again, like the orgasm had wiped out all of her struggles and thoughts at once. And maybe it had, as the emptiness sunk in in Jack’s absence.

Jack used the corner of her lab coat, sprawled out and over the chair to remove the rest of his semen from his member, the smell of musky sex still hanging in the air, swimming and mixing with the antiseptic smell of Angela herself. It was something she could only describe as “Jack’s” and she couldn’t bring herself to think about it anymore.

Jack grabbed her chin after he pulled up his pants, pulling her limp body forward by his fingers alone, digging into her cheeks when Angela failed to put up a fight again, digging red into her flesh. The sad struggle was easily and efficiently crushed with another kiss, and burning blue eyes seemed to pull her apart piece by piece and rebuild her all at once into something Jack wanted, something Jack wanted and could enjoy at any time.

She hated it, and glared at him as he let go of her chin. Jack only laughed something low.

“Mine. All mine.” he said, smiling at her completely fucked-out body, lying helpless in a chair in his office. Angela had the sudden realization that Jack was _leaving_ , just like that, after he tucked in his shirt while grabbing his duster jacket from where it rested on the desk.

“Clean yourself up, Angie.” Jack said, walking back past her towards the door. His fingers touched along her jawline, white fire again, turning her head with the power, swept up into another burning, forceful kiss.

Then the door closed behind him, and Jack was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> notes:
> 
> 1\. no comment and not guilty of anything you can accuse me of for writing a piece of absolute filth. get consent, ladies and gents.
> 
> 2\. Angela, I am so, so sorry for torturing you in this way, but I promise you’ll like how the rest of this turns out. (hint hint it won’t be as bad as this one) Remember to like, comment, and subscribe for more Overwatch character hurt/comfort courtesy of my terrible mind.
> 
> 3\. Why doesn’t Google Drive have a good way to export to raw HTML? That’s my biggest question of the day. Multi-billion dollar company and you can’t write a decent HTML exporter. I’m going back to markdown. Goodbye, good day sir, you get nothing.
> 
> 4\. The nameless lab’s tech is named Jon. I don’t know why, but he just feels like a Jon. Maybe it’s because I work with three Jons. See, art imitates real life. Yay.
> 
> 5\. Ich Bau Ne Stadt Für Dich is German and translates to “this one 2009 German r&b song” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltQNeihjqB0)
> 
> 6\. I’m just pulling your leg, it means “I’ll build a city for you” and it’s oddly fitting and kinda dark and soul-y. In this fic, we see Angela try-and-fail to have a conversation, and then Jack showing his definitely angsty, non-con-y side. Does he love Angela? Maybe. Does he think he loves Angela? Definitely. Does Angela love him? No.
> 
> 6\. Excuse me, can someone clue me into why we don't have a slash tag for Angela and Jack? #justasking


End file.
